Zima
by Skywolf24
Summary: Even with the protection of his best friend shielding him from the tortures of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes still feels trapped in an icy prison of his own soul, but that all changes when the warmth from a wound stray pup finally thaws him out by becoming his loyal protector. Post-CAWS.
1. Chapter 1

**Zima**

**All characters belong to Marvel Comics**

**I own nothing.**

His leather tactical boots sloshed in the murky puddles as the ambiance of shadow became encased in the depth of his feral, guarded steel-azure colored embers were shrouded by the disheveled tresses of sloppy chestnut.

Bucky loomed in the encroaching darkness, thumping his boots with heavy systematical strides, keeping his medium height stature distant and concealed by the dingy amber light of nearly streetlamps was caressing over his displaced, exhausted frame. A black hooded sweater covered the sleek definition of muscle and a black pair of frayed jeans he borrowed from Steve fitted snug around his trim waist. His drenched chin length straggly hair was swathed over the chiseled definition of his heavy jaw as he unconsciously wandered further down the narrow wedge of a back alleyway.

His skull pulverized with increase trepidation and his blue chasms hazed with a fresh coating of hot tears, involuntary he moved in silence to the stairwell, his bionic alloy hand clutched the wooden railing, as drops of rain cascaded over the lazy Cupids bow of his full lips, rolling slowly into the crease of a curved edge, he relished the taste of coldness seeping down his raw throat and instinctively trained his firm shadowy blue eyes over the obscurity around him.

His weaken, restless body surged with remorseful, torturous pain, emotional anguish_—_his mind condemned him with wreaked havoc that seeped from the darken crevices of his memory. There were so many threads meandering and being stained with the blood of his victims, so many faces that emerged from the dark recesses of his mind and turned to blacken ash and faded as the pulses of Hydra's commands, disorder and abhorrence increased into strong waves of delirium.

Underneath the torn layers of his body, he always felt confined in a frothing iron cauldron, heating, melting and scraping the skin off of his used body until all that reminded with a shell of a human charred and morphed into a reserved, vacant demon with no soul-just the a brutalized slave for the devils will. A monster. A wraith meant to live a life in isolation, alone and frozen, but he didn't want to become alone, he wanted to feel warmth.

The raging storm inside of him hastened, and the memories of his inhumane conditioning became consumed by the soothing and gentle drops of rain as he released a shaky exhale, feeling his heart thudding against his rib cage.

Suddenly, a faint and audible whimper of distress lulled him to turn his head, Bucky fiercely snapped his head up, removed his knife from his boot, his leather gloved fingers curled over the handle tightly, his muscles coiled underneath the material of his soaked clothes, and he locked his luminous, menacing eyes gaze on a heap of trash bags.

He advanced in methodical steps, keeping his blade leveled with his shoulders and glowered at the garbage bags with a murderous death gleaming in his blue eyes. He lowered his posture like a staking panther ready to strike at his prey, the broad span of his shoulders recoiled back and then he pounced, lifting his feet off the slick pavement and landed with perfect balance on a soggy bag-he bared his teeth and unleashed a feral growl that emitted from the back of his throat. With one proficient move of his hand, he raised his blade, his eyes became molten pools of steel and bent his elbow as he twisted the blade, but then in a heartbeat-his lips broke apart and glistening blue orbs widened as he felt the air escape his lungs in the moment he settled his feverish gaze down on a shivering pile of jet -black fur curled into a ball.

Staring intently at the drenched stray pup, Bucky loosened his grip on the knife, allowing the weapon to drop into a puddle, he furrowed his eyebrows, and he swallowed a constricting lump to the back of his throat, and tentatively moved his metal hand over the pup's small body. "You're not alone..." he muffled out a low pitch, intensely watching the small, weak canine open his eyes-glaring up at him with two icy-blue ghost eyes. The pup's fur raised and body recoiled in a defensive stance as his muzzle curled to display needle point canine teeth.

Bucky knew that the fierce little pup wasn't a pure breed, a hybrid mixture of a black German shepherd and Husky, his ears were sharpened triangles and there was a faint white furred star on his chest. He was wounded, a large gash was embedded on his front, stubby leg and his haunting gaze was butchered by fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He soothed, looking down at the pup and tried to prevent it from blanching away from his hand. He furrowed his eyebrows and made his sullen blue eyes latched deeper over the visible wounds on the pup's tensed body. "I'm a friend."

Tilting his ears back, the pup bared his teeth at Bucky and tried biting his arm. The rogue Soviet assassin solely continued to study the mutt underneath his sloppy strands of long hair. His lips were set in a straight line as he reached his head, allowing the pup to sniff the scent of trust before he coiled his fingers around the pup's neck, lifting the trembling ball up with his layer of baby fur; his blue eyes met the pup's distrusting stare in the darkness. Moments later, he cradled the animal in the nook of his arm, stroking his fur as he felt the edges of his lips slack up into a natural, trusting watery smile.

"You're safe with me, boy...I'll protect you, Zima," He said using his savory tone of Russian as he called the pup by a name he created for him , Bucky absently brushed his fingers over the slick, wet fur of his new friend. "Winter." he whispered, securing his arm over the mutt's shivering body. "That's a good name. I think Steve will like you. I remember the skinny punk always like taking care of strays when we were kids." He glanced down at pup and faintly touched the blood encased wounds. "I never had a dog before, but I know you guys are trained to always watch their master's backs and protect them from danger."

Bucky pulled out his dog names from his sweater's pocket, staring at his name engraved on the metal, and then placed the tarnished chain around Zima's thin neck. "There," he growled out lightly, with a protective gleam of defiant blue narrowed on the pup's face. "Now, you are no longer a stray. You belong to _—J_ames Buchanan Barnes."

He bit down on his lip, tasting the rain as he drew out a deep breath and rubbed his cold fingers over the pup's rigid back. "You're my dog." he declared.

Feeling the content pup nestle snugly in the wedge between his bionic arm and his chest pectorals, Bucky straightened to his boots and scanned his eyes around, before exiting the alleyway and walked into the direction of Steve's apartment as he whispered softly to the pup, watching the tiny animal drift into a content slumber against his metal arm, he smiled broadly. "Let's go home, Zima."


	2. Chapter 2

**Zima**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

It was almost three in the morning when Captain Steve Rogers returned from the Avenger's Tower, his short, spiked golden hair ruffled with a few messy tendrils shadowing his gleaming forehead. His severe cobalt colored eyes scanned the ambiance shadows as tiny squares of dingy amber light from a street lamp across became captive in his sharpen gaze. He reeked of exhaustion, his dark blue stealth embossed uniform drenched with feverish sweat as he tasted a few salty drops run over the crease of his lips.

Clutching his helmet tight in his gloved hand, he lumbered up the stairs and quickly unlocked the door. The dense smell of lemon scented cleaner hit his nostrils in the instant he closed the door with his boot. He paused for a moment, checking the area with his alert blue eyes before trudging his weight up the stairwell and towards his apartment. When he made to the top step, he unlatched his alloy shield off the span of his broad shoulders and paced to the unlocked door of his flat. Parting his smooth lips, he drew out a long yawn as a sudden haze of tiredness tug over his eyelids.

He unlocked the door, and slowly inside with his muscles tensed and rigid. An unfamiliar smell of wet dog hung in the air, furrowing his brows into a tight crease, Steve shifted his skeptical gaze to the dim kitchen light bisecting the darkness. With stealth paces, his boots creaked over the floorboards and his wrist slipped through the leather straps in the back of his shield. He pursued with cautionary movement, keeping his eyes locked at the caress of light beaming over the floor. "Buck," he whispered out the name of his best friend with a scarce breath, leaning his back pressed against the wall, his shield against his firm torso.

"What is that smell?" he affirmed, inhaling the vague sense of drenched fur, clenching and grasped the straps with his fingers. The air thickened with tension as he tried blocking out the invasive smell of a puppy-puppy?

Steve fell silent as he dropped his helmet, feeling surprised and uncertainty engulf his thoughts because of that familiar puppy smell he remembered from his childhood. A sudden brush of warm encased over him then, it was calming and was one that set his stern instincts to lower down his shield, alerting him that no danger was present and that there was a possible explanation for a stray pup to infiltrate his apartment in the early hours of morning. Exhaling out a sharp breath, he advanced with heavy and systematical strides to the kitchen.

"Buck," he whispered once more with a low pitch in his serene voice. "Are you wake, pal?" He shook off the uneasiness creeping over him and inched a step closer as he willed himself to flick on the kitchen light after sucking in a deep intake of air, 'I'm turning on the light..in one, two, three." he flickered the switch up and narrowed his leveled blue eyes at puddles of spilled milk on the tile and a plastic bowl in front of the fridge.

Cocking his eyebrow up, Steve allowed his gaze trailed over the scattered drops of milk until he found Bucky sitting comfortably in a tight wedge against the side of the fridge cradling a shivering ball of black fur against his bare pectorals. The brutally conditioned Soviet assassin wore a pair of black and grey army fatigues that fitted snug over his trim abdominal muscles. His dark mahogany strands of messy hair were loosely overlaying the curve of his jaw and his bionic metallic fingers brushed gentle strokes over the pup's back as his youthful, boyish face was veiled by dark shadows around him.

"I see you found a wandering stray, Buck?" Steve said with a light brisk in his voice, crouching to his knees and lowering his shield on the floor.

Lifting his head, Bucky stared directly at Steve with his feral, daunting steel-azure colored eyes underneath strands of damp hair. He nodded in response and ran his fingers in between the space of the pup's pointed ears. "I found him in an alley." he finally answered with a protective edge in his low voice while keeping his hand securely wrapped over Zima's body as he tilted his head back at the cool steel of the fridge. "He's a tough vokrug, but I like him, Steve." he spoke with his savory and firm Russian accent. "Zima is not a stray..." he gritted out his words and eased up the metal tags off of Zima's neck. "He belongs to James Barnes...That's my name."

"Zima?"

Bucky nodded quietly, "Yes. That is the name I have chosen for him. It means winter in Russian translation." he shot Steve a pointed look. "It's not because I'm called the Winter Soldier..." He bit down lightly on his bottom lip, gingerly, he attempted to life the dozy pup up, but Zima jerked slight against his grave chest and that made him turn his focus on the twitching canine muzzle-damp and cold. It made him curve the edges of his lips into a faint smile as he looked up at Steve with his glistening crystal blue orbs.

"Back in Russia, I saw Hydra operatives train and abuse these types of animals-they turned dogs into lethal and effective weapons on missions." His eyes watering as his metal hand rubbed over the pup's massive paws, relaxing the faint shivering with his gentle touch. «These animals are not weapons-" he narrowed his gaze with disdain, as drapes of hair hung over his sullen eyes as he glanced down at Zima nestled snug in his arms.

Steve fell silent from words.

"They can't express their pain and control their actions...sort of like what my superiors did with me." Bucky dejected out with a sharp breath, his voice slightly grim, and his thin upper with lazy arch of his Cupid's bow formed a faint and almost sulky frown. "I can't remember what Hydra made me do...But I'm trying to break their hold and find the real Bucky Barnes again."

Steve lowered his face down, "It's good to have you back, Buck." he admitted, feeling a slight ping against his heart. He extended out his hand and gripped his friend's metal plated shoulder, and listened to the slight hiss of plates react against his touch. "I know we've a lot of catching up to do, my friend, but you need to know that I'm not going to let Hydra take you away from me." He felt his eyes fill with tears; he leaned back and swiped the wetness off his chiseled and broad cheekbones. "You will be Bucky Barnes again, I promise-" his voice broke away to the light muffling of a whimper coming from the ball of fur in Bucky's arms.

Bucky gave him one of his generous, signature smirks and pulled Zima away from his chest. "Do you want to hold him?" he asked with his brightest voice, turning the pup to face his friend, Zima opened his ghost blue eyes and curled his little pink tongue as he yawned. Bucky's smile widened and his blue eyes shone with warmth as he handed the pup to Steve. "Careful, he does pack a nasty bite for a little guy."

Steve instinctively cradled his strong muscular arms around the timid pup; he looked deeply at Zima's ghost eyes. "I can see why you call him, Zima; his eyes remind me of winter." He reared his head up and locked his gaze with Bucky's temperate blue eyes. "He's your dog-which means I don't want my tearing my place up and hunting down my neighbors cats."

"Steve," Bucky growled under his breath, "I'm not going to train him to become some assassin canine, Steve." he shot back with a wolfish grin, threading his fingers over Zima's short ebony fur. "Zima is just going to be my dog."

Steve nodded, in response, and gently rubbed the pup's belly with his gloved hand as his lips stretched into a broad smile. "I'll admit he's a cute little guy,"

"He's cute but deadly," Bucky echoed back with a sneer urging to tug on his lips. He watched Zima nip at Steve's hand with his needle point teeth, and lightly chuckled up his throat. "I'm loving him already, Steve."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Captain Steve Rogers needed a break from all the turmoil happening in the Avengers Tower, he finished his routine jog around the National Mall, passing the marble, granite, and blue gneiss obelisk mounted on the edge of the park's river. His muscles burned with feverish sweat, and chiseled features flushed against the humid breeze cutting over his face.

He was lying on the grass, draining a bottle of water, and focusing his sharp crystal blue eyes on Sam Wilson, the Pararescue, and aerial military operative wore a plain gray T-shirt and track shorts. His sunglasses rested on his short raven hair, and one hand gripped a dog leash, as he guided a wobbling pup across the street. Chucking under his breath, Steve gave his friend a wave, and kept his eyes fixed on the golden, chestnut furred German shepherd pup tugging on the leash.

"Good morning, Cap." Sam called out with a pleasant voice, and paced closer to the dumbfounded super-soldier. He curved his lips into amused smirk. Steve crouched down, and looked at the timid pup sitting, and panting with its small tongue sticking out. Glancing at the faint smile crossed over Steve's face, he spoke with a gentle voice. "Say hello to my new therapist dog that I'm training to use during my sessions. A friend called me, said that his female German shepherd whelped a few pups eight weeks ago, and wondered if I was interested. I spent all weekend deciding which one to take back, and this was the runt of the litter. Mind you, he's a stubborn listener, but he's very attentive to people."

"What's his name?" Steve asked simply, stroking his fingers over the pup's back. He lifted his eyes at Sam.

Sam crouched down, and petted his new companion. "I'm calling him... Riley." He said, with a shimmer of tears in his dark brown eyes. "Since my wing man loved dogs, and had one just like the pup, Ryder waiting for him back at our base. When I finished over there, I fought to keep Ryder, and bring him back to Riley's girlfriend, but military dogs once they're missions are completed. They never get a chance to go back home." He digressed out a pained sigh, and gave Steve a smile. "Some of those dogs were the bravest souls I've ever worked with; they stayed with commanding officers until the end, even took a few bullets in the line of fire."

"Bucky has a new friend," Steve replied, straightening to his feet. He crossed his sweaty, broad arms over his pectorals." A black Shepherd mix...He calls the pup Zima. It means winter in Russian. I think the pup is a comfort, ever since he found Zima, Buck's been having less nightmares, and he even goes out to buy coffee at Starbucks near my flat, without a stubborn growl as his answer. He's improving every day."

Sam nodded, scooping Riley up with the ground; the pup tucked its head into the crook of his arm. "Zima might be Bucky's own therapy dog; you know these animals can sometimes find us when we're lost. The funny thing is, Cap, they never want anything in return. Do you want to hold Riley?"

"Yes, I do." Steve returned, with a bit of excitement laced in his firm voice. He took Riley into his strong arms, and the pup licked his sharp cheek. He was finally, feeling like his old self again, smiling without hesitation or doubt whirling in his soul, staring at the hope in the shadows.

He felt ripples of hope stream through him, and he no longer felt dead. He was free from the chains of guilt restraining his heart. The freedom from the crimes that condemned, broken, and imprisoned him and his loved ones was finally being uplifted. He had friends who watched his back, Sam is wing man who brought him back to living, his best friend James Buchanan Barnes who restored his faith and trust in people, and Natasha, his partner and maybe one day a lover who tested his resilient heart by pushing his limits, and dared him to take a few risks. And even Sam looked free from his past grievances, but Steve kept those words tucked away, he knew that Sam respected his silence.

"Do you think that you'll bring Barnes along for our next early morning jog?" Sam insisted, and Steve handed him back dozy pup. "Maybe our dogs can run together?" he offered.

Steve shrugged with a wordless response, and then he vaguely sensed a familiar, dark presence, wavering in the summer heat. He involuntarily turned around, and focused his stern blue eyes on the ex-Soviet assassin advancing towards them, Zima was gnawing on the leather leash gripped in his left gloved hand, and shimmers of alloy metal knuckles were exposed in the morning light.

The lethal Russian asset wore a tattered leather jacket, unzipped enough to reveal a black shirt with the Avengers design in the center. Dark gray jeans hung snug under his slender hips, and a baseball cap rested over his dark mahogany strands of chin lengthened hair which touched the curve of his thick jaw. His daunting, pale blue eyes locked on Steve, as he moved in fast, methodical strides-almost like he was stalking a target. Zima copied his pace, and stopped when Bucky halted his steps on the grassy area. "Bucky, I'm glad to see that you and the pup decided to get out, today." Steve spoke in serene voice, and smirked broadly at his brooding friend's unfazed features.

Barnes looked absently down at Zima nuzzling against his pant leg. "The pup needs to become familiar with his surroundings." He lowly answered, shifting his uncomfortable stance a little; his blue eyes gleamed with wariness. "It's just a short walk." He bit his lower lip, scanning the park, with frantic beat of his heart pounding against his rib cage. He suddenly became unsteady with his words, "I should go..." He stammered, his voice harsh, and unyielding against Steve's concerned gaze searing through his skull. "This was a stupid idea. I'm not welcomed here. These people know what I've done. I don't remember." His voice dropped into a remorseful pitch. His knuckles clenched and he curved his lips into a broken frown.

"Easy, James." Sam spoke the silence, and stepped forward. "No one here knows what you've done. You need to calm down." He spoke gently; keeping Riley nestled in his arms. Zima cocked his head up, and looked at Bucky's distress. The pup reacted instantly, and yanked on Barnes's pant leg, growling playfully, and jarred the displaced man's attention.

Bucky crouched to the pup's level, and lifted Zima up by placing his metal hand underneath the round belly. "I know I don't belong here." he whispered in a soft voice, looking at Steve with his pained blue eyes. He didn't blink that much, instead his expression hardened like stone, and he gritted the back of his teeth. "I need to leave."

Steve tentatively neared his friend, "No, Bucky. I want you to stay." he grounded, watching Bucky's face morph into something dark and unreadable. "Why don't we all take a walk?"

Bucky swallowed thickly, and nodded at his friend's words. He put Zima back down, and fixed his eyes on Riley. "You brought another dog?" he growled, nostrils flared.

"Riley belongs to Sam, Buck." Steve answered, watching Zima's ghost blue eyes latch over Riley like his prey. The pup's sleek ebony fur rose on its end, and his ears titled back into a defensive stance. "He's not a threat to Zima. Let them play with each other."

Bucky nodded in agreement his expression tightened a bit, and he lifted the pup close to his face. "Zima," he ordered, the small canine responded by reflex. "I want you to play nice with Sam's dog. Don't attack him."

Sam looked at Steve with his wary dark eyes, "Do you think it's a good idea?" he whispered, "This pup is the Winter Soldier's dog."

"Trust me on this, Sam." Steve echoed back, watching him lower Riley down. He gave Bucky at curt of a nod, and Zima was carefully placed in front of Riley.

Sniffling the other pup, Zima crinkled his muzzle into a scowl, and his ears raised forward. He felt threatened by Riley, his fur bristled, and haunting blue eyes became vicious, as he positioned his body for attack. He saw the other pup's weakness, and prepared to lunge for submissive hold. Without any warning, he pounced on Riley, pinning him down, and growled as he gained dominance over the shivering pup frozen in his intimating gaze.

Zima's carnal instincts controlled his actions, as he made Riley expose his vital areas of his body, the throat was the prime target for his needle point fangs to dig into, but before he made his killing bite, Riley licked his little black nose, startling him enough to blanched backwards, and he froze into a deep forward bow. His massive paws were out forward, rump raised and busy tail wagging. He playfully growled, and tugged on Riley's fur.

"What's he doing?" Sam asked, worry etched over his face, and listened to Riley woof and copy the same stance.

Steve smirked, and looked at Bucky standing stoic in front of the two puppies. "I think Riley made a new friend." he answered, watching Zima pin Riley down and, lick his muzzle, and wait for the smaller pup to attack.

"A best friend," Bucky returned, his upper lip twitching into a warm smile when he glanced back at Steve. "Until the end." he softly whispered, his blue eyes glistening with hidden tears.

Steve smiled, he looked at Bucky and Sam, standing on either side of him. 'Right to left." he murmured.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Bucky darted opened his feverish blue eyes to a soft thumping hitting the wooded floor by his bed side**,**he quickly lifted himself up from the mattress and looked down at the edge of the bed at Zima was lying flat on his rounded belly, shivering with his ears flattening against his head. The pup lifted his head slightly up, his squinting moonlit icy eyes observing his surroundings with a suspicious gaze as his ebony fur bristled under Bucky's intent stare.

Zima opened his muzzle, black nose switching as the different smells as he lifted his slender body up with shaky legs and stalked, sliding on the pads of his paws to a leather jacket hanging off the door knob. He plopped down in front of the closet, and lashed his silver claws at the expensive jacket, with his curious eyes as his needle point teeth grabbed hold of his new plaything. He aggressively tugged, and shook his head as small growls rumbled through his small body.

Without wasting a second, Bucky pulled the covers off his half-naked, body and crouched down in front of the playful animal, his metal hand cupped underneath the pup's furry belly and he lifted Zima off the floor and held the pup close to his bare, graven chest. "Zima," he began, prying the small fangs off the leather sleeve. "Let's go see if we can find something of Steve's for you to chew on."

He curved his full lips into a dark smirk as wisps of messily dark hair fell into his striking blue eyes. "I'm sure he had a few Captain America action figures." He rasped with a mischievous tone, and raised the trembling pup slightly close to his forehead, and he looked into those piercing ice blue eyes. "I'm sure you bit a few head off."

Zima started playfully biting at Bucky's finger tips. "Hey. I don't think so." Bucky ejected, tapping the pup on the nose and gently pulled himself off the floor with the pup tucked in his arm. He grabbed the nearest unpressed black shirt and slung it over his shoulders, and casually exited the guest bedroom and moved down the hall, but he paused in his steps when he felt something warm dripping over his waist. His eyes widened, and brows furrowed as he pursed his lips and narrowed his darkened gaze at trail of dampness glazed on his indented abdomen. It only took a second for his mind to register that the substance was on his bare, smooth midsection.

"What?" he growled, with a deep tone, lifting a displeasing look at the black wolf hybrid pup, wagging his skinny tail against his alloy plated arm. The reformed assassin scowled, and stormed down the hallway, moving quickly to the dresser with a box of tissues. He dabbed the thin cotton sheet on his wet stomach, and looked at the stain becoming absorbed. "Zima," e gruffly sighed, and settled the pup on the floor as he finished wiping any the pee off his lower waist. "I think your training will begin today…" He paused in his words, setting his lips firm as he looked down at the spot where Zima was and shook his head, the pup at disappeared from his vantage.

"Great," Bucky grumbled under his breath. He arched on eyebrow up, "Now, I have a dog that's efficient in stealth tactics." He chided, and wiped his hand over his thick messy strands of hair draped over his jaw. He lowered himself to the floor, and looked under the furniture while breathing in a bit of dust in his lungs. He nearly choked after one heavy exhale. His intense blue shifted to a chair, and he slowly crawled on his hands and knees. "You can't hide from me, Zima." he smirked, darkly.

'Bucky?" Steve gentle voice wafted behind him. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Bucky lifted his head and rolled a glance over at his best friend leaning against the wall leading to the kitchen with a mug of coffee gripped in his large hand, "Zima is hiding somewhere in the apartment. I need you to go back in the kitchen and prepare a bowl of milk for him. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, Steve. He's a stubborn, pup."

Steve gave his friend a curt of a nod, "I will be right back." He started scuffle his track shoes to the kitchen of the kitchen, and the corners of his lips upturned into a warm smile as he noticed a ball of fur curled behind the white leather sofa against the wall. "I don't think you'll need to start a search party, Buck." Bucky gave a dumbfounded expression at Steve's words, and turned he head, and stared at the shivering pup tucked in the hollow space between the couch and the wall. Zima's tail was curled against his tiny muzzle as a whimpering cry muffled through the apartment. Steve crouched down to his knees and reach out a hand. He gently stroked his fingers through the pup's sleek ebony fur. "Easy, boy. I'm not goin' to hurt you." he soothed.

Bucky slowly got but onto his bare feet. He gingerly moved to the couch, and extended out his metal hand, and he carefully scooped the up out of Steve's broad arms "It's okay, boy." he calmly, and rubbed a finger over Zima's tensed back. "You don't have to be afraid anymore." He lifted his gaze and leveled his blue eyes with Steve. His lips twitched up into gentle smile. «You're in good hands."

"I'll go pour you some milk, Buck." Steve hastened to the kitchen while Bucky sat down against the couch with Zima nuzzled securely in his arms

A short time after, Bucky dipped his finger into the bowl as Steve instructed him to, and then gentle nudged the tip of his finger over the pup's mouth. "Come on, boy. You need to eat." He said with a soft voice, and watched the pup's head thrash against his chest with a refusing motion. "Hey, you need to stop being stubborn and drink this...Come on, Zima." He looked up at Steve with a disheartening gaze swirling in his hooded eyes. "He doesn't trust me, Steve."

Steve heaved out a sigh, "When I used to feed the strays around our old place, some of the cats were fussy. You can't force Zima to eat. You need to let him decide, Buck."

Bucky lowered his blue eyes, "Okay," he replied in a dismal tone. He dabbed his finger back into the bowl, and slowly slid it inside the pup's mouth. "Come on, Zima. Don't be a killjoy." He slammed his eyelids shut, and he felt like giving up until he felt the pup's little tongue swipe the milk off his finger. He opened his eyes, and a small crooked smirk crossed his lips, and then a shy, and grateful smile. "Steve, its working." He felt contentment beam over his sullen face. "He finally trusts me." he declared.

"I'm glad, Buck." Steve smiled at his friend as his deep blue eyes watched the young soldier feed the stubborn pup, he allowed himself to inhale deep, and calm as the sounds of suckling echoed in his ears. Bucky lifted his head with a sort of surreal peace spreading over his chiseled features. His pale blue eyes became crisp when he looked down at Zima's eyes slowly closing and feeling his belly being filled underneath his hand.

"You know, Rogers." Bucky set his lips into a firm line. "Before we went overseas, I wanted to get a dog to protect you when you were sick." He bowed his head slowly down to his chest, and felt the pup's cold nose brush over the tip of his nose and he released a small, uncharacteristic laugh.

Steve nodded silently, feeling a smile grace over his face. "I think Zima finally feels safe with you, Buck. He needs you just like you need him."

Bucky nodded, threading his fingers through Zima's fur. "Yeah." he smiled cozily, and brushed his lips over the pup's head. "I think so, punk."


End file.
